


She comes here a lot

by justbreathe80



Category: due South
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser actually laughed, which she thought might not be possible, but then again, she had Benton Fraser in a bar with his hat off, so maybe more was possible than she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She comes here a lot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for getfraserlaid.
> 
> Thanks to strangecobwebs and brooklinegirl for doing beta duty, as they always do, and assuring me that my het porn is working just fine. *smooches*

Two wine glasses, lined up on the bar. She’d nursed those two glasses for two hours, not really feeling them, mostly drinking for something to do.

When it was became clear he wasn’t going to show, she'd switched to tequila, and now the first shot glass was lined up next to the wine glasses. She figured that the alcohol might help her forget that she wanted to kill David Spencer. For not showing up. For making her feel like a goddamned fool.

She had just gestured to the bartender for another shot when something, or rather someone, caught her eye in the lobby of the hotel.

“Constable Fraser,” she called out, before she could even really say why she was doing it. Fucking tequila.

Fraser turned toward her, and she could swear she saw him wince, just a little. He walked from the lobby into the bar, taking his Stetson off and holding it in his hands in front of him. “Assistant State’s Attorney Kowalski,” he said, and Fraser was nothing if not polite, but his voice was cool, clipped.

“Good evening, Constable. I, uh, I saw you in the lobby, I thought I’d say hello.” She cringed inside, because she had no clue why the hell she was talking to him in the first place.

Fraser looked confused. “Hello.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m here visiting a friend who’s in town for the week. He’s staying here and asked me to come and see him. I was just leaving.” Fraser’s eyes were darting toward the door, and he seemed seriously uncomfortable. Visiting a friend. Sure.

She picked up the shot the bartender had discretely set in front of her off of the bar and downed it, feeling the burn all the way down her throat. “Fraser. Can I call you Fraser? Sit down, okay? Please.”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine.” Fraser sat dutifully, setting his hat down on the bar. He looked awkward as hell perched there, like he’d never sat at a bar in his life, which she supposed was rather unlikely, but it looked that way regardless. She waved at the bartender again, wanting to get another shot down before her buzz started to wear off. She had pretty much zero interest in being sober after the night she'd had, spending two hours waiting like an idiot in a hotel bar, and she wasn’t sure she was up for sober conversation with Fraser.

She turned to face him. “And you can call me Stella, you know. I figure it’s the least you can do considering that you want to fuck my ex-husband.”

A lesser man would have lost his cool at being called out like that, but she had to hand it to Fraser, he stayed upright on his stool, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The bartender plunked the next shot down in front of Stella, and she turned it around on the bar, rolling it with her fingers. “Come on, I’m not stupid, and I see the way he looks at you. He used to look at _me_ like that.”

Fraser had turned away and was fingering the rim of his Stetson absently. “Yes, well, you don’t need to worry.” There was the hint of something sharp in his tone.

“Nothing’s happened yet, huh? But you want it to?”

Fraser sighed and closed his eyes. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what I want, because it seems to me that he doesn’t want the same thing.”

Stella knew Ray Kowalski better than anyone did, even his mother, and she’d seen the puppy dog eyes he made at Fraser when he thought no one was looking. She also knew that Ray had never been a hundred percent straight. He’d never said so outright, but she’d spent twenty years watching him try not to notice other men. “God, what is it with men, huh?” she said, kind of startled by the bitterness in her own voice.

Fraser actually _laughed_, which she thought might not be possible, but then again, she had Benton Fraser in a bar with his hat off, so maybe more was possible than she thought. “I wish I could tell you, Stella. Although I am technically a member of the group, I find myself at a loss to understand them most of the time.”

She smiled back, and, god, she couldn’t remember the last time she really smiled. It kind of made her face feel weird. She picked up her shot off the bar and raised it to Fraser before drinking it. “You’re telling me. I got _stood up_, Fraser. Can you believe that?”

“No, actually, I can’t.”

“I mean, I’m an attractive, intelligent, successful woman, right?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Fraser’s full attention was focused on her, and she was beginning to understand why Ray looked like he wanted to jump all over Fraser when they were in a room together. It was _intense_. She turned her head away, because he was really kind of ridiculously attractive, in a way that definitely did _not_ work for her. “I just don’t understand. I mean, it’s not like I expected him to marry me or anything. God knows I have no interest in doing that again. But, Christ, he could have called, you know?” She could hear her words starting to slur, just a little, and she resisted the very strong urge to hail down the bartender for another shot, because she was not here to be sloppy, she was here to forget for a little while.

“It really is reprehensible behavior. Please accept my apologies on behalf of my entire sex.”

She looked at him, a little stunned, because that was Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, being sarcastic and funny, and maybe she didn’t know this man at all. She’d always found him irritating as hell, and thought he had a gigantic stick up his ass most days, but this Fraser was nothing like that one.

“Apology accepted.” She smiled at him, and then glanced down at her watch. “Shit, I – I really should be going, I have to be in court first thing tomorrow.” She swung around to put her feet on the floor, but her first attempt at walking was pretty unsuccessful, and she felt Fraser’s firm grip on her arm to keep her from stumbling. Apparently, she was a bit more tipsy then she thought.

“Stella –“ Fraser started, but seemed to pull himself back before launching into what she was sure was a really fascinating lecture on drunk driving. Her name sounded incredibly intimate coming from him, for some reason.

“Relax, Fraser, I’m not stupid. Will you drive me home? I’ll call you a cab from my place. I’m sorry, I just shouldn’t –“ God, this was the last thing she needed, getting chauffeured around by a Mountie on a Tuesday night, instead of being back at David’s apartment on his 600-thread count sheets.

Fraser’s hand was still tight on her arm, his other hand pulling the Stetson off the bar. “It’s really no trouble. I must warn you, though, Ray thinks my driving has what he calls ‘anti-style.’”

“Yeah, well, I’m not looking to do the Indy 500 on the way home. Come on, my car’s our front.”

Stella walked out of the bar into the lobby, and tried not to think too much about Fraser’s hand on the small of her back as she passed by him.

*****

Fraser pulled the car smoothly into parking lot next to her building. He was right, there was _no_ style, not one damn bit, to Fraser’s driving, but it got her home, and with her head still spinning a little, she was grateful beyond measure for that.

She opened the door and climbed out. Fraser turned off the car and did the same. They stood there, staring at each other across the top of the car.

“Come up?”

Fraser nodded and followed her into the building, into the elevator and down the hallway to her apartment. She fumbled a bit with the keys in the lock - everything was still a little blurry around the edges - but she managed to work it in and get the door open.

She threw her keys down on the table in the foyer and kicked off her heels, which was a fucking relief after wearing them for sixteen hours. She shuffled across the floor in her nylon-covered feet and flopped down on the couch, closing her eyes tightly and willing the room to stop with its very mild and persistent spinning. She wasn’t even drunk, just a little buzzed, and she needed to get her goddamn head clear.

When she opened her eyes, she suddenly remembered that Fraser was with her and looked up to see him standing there, at parade rest or something, looking ridiculously uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll be going.” And _whoa_, that wasn't at all what she wanted. She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted from this night, this situation, but she did _not_ bring Fraser up here to have him bolt.

She was up and on her feet, doing her best to stay steady while she cut Fraser off near the door and backed him up with her hand on his chest. “Don’t. I mean, at least let me call you a cab, okay?”

And, god, she was _so_ screwed, because she noticed how blue Fraser’s eyes were and how she could feel the heat of his skin underneath his flannel shirt (no red serge tonight) and she didn’t even _like_ him, but she didn’t want him to leave either.

Fraser looked at her, practically through her, and she felt sort of splayed out. His voice was a little husky. “No, it’s fine, I really don’t mind the walk. Thanks for a lovely night.” He tried to move away, but she pinned him back against the wall with her hand.

“Fraser, don’t be stupid. It’s far. Just wait while I call you a cab.” She could hear the annoyance in her own voice, and she sounded remarkably like she did when she talked to Ray.

“It’s really fine, I don’t mind –“

“Fraser, Christ. Are you afraid of me or something?” She kept her hand on his chest, and could swear she felt his heart speed up.

“No, I assure you I’m not.” Fraser voice was clipped, kind of pissy.

She moved in close to him. “I don’t want anything from you. I’ve seen how women, god, how some _men_ act around you, throw themselves at you. You know I’m not like that. I just want this, tonight, nothing more. Got it?”

Fraser nodded, but still looked a really bizarre combination of pissed off and horny and freaked out, and Stella thought that it kind of looked good on him before she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.

She had to hand it to him, he got on board pretty quickly, and after a moment of petrified stillness, Fraser tangled his fingers in her hair, tilted her head to the side, just a little, and plunged his tongue into her mouth. And, Christ, it was good, Benton Fraser could kiss, which she supposed she should have known, considering that he seemed to be good at pretty much everything else.

They stood there, Stella keeping him pressed against the wall, Fraser’s hands cupping the back of her head as he moved his lips on hers and explored her mouth with his tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had made her this turned on, but here she was, wet and half-humping Fraser’s leg in her foyer.

Finally, Fraser pulled away, gasping, and she was ready to try to convince him to keep going, to stop the freak out, but Fraser was just fine, he was right with her. He pushed his face into her neck and breathed her in. “Stella,” he said, his voice harsh and raspy against her throat, and she could feel it all the way down between her legs. “God, what are we doing?”

She pulled back from him, just a little. “Do you ever stop thinking, Fraser?”

“I’m afraid not.” He was laughing softly, and Stella took that as her cue to yank him away from the wall and start toward the bedroom, Fraser walking backward. It was like things had slowed down, and Stella opened the buttons on Fraser’s shirt as they walked. Fraser was staring down at her, at the hollow of her throat where her blouse was unbuttoned.

They stumbled a few times, Fraser wincing as he ran into the end table in the living room, Stella cursing as she kicked the frame of the bedroom door. But they made it, and Stella pushed Fraser toward the bed and onto his back. She kept her eyes on him as she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor, and smiled as Fraser’s eyes got wide when he saw her thong, her thigh high stockings. She _had_ planned on having sex tonight, although this was not at all what she thought her night would turn out to be. Definitely _not_ the person she though she’d be having sex with.

She straddled his legs and kept at his buttons, and he picked up his shoulders to let her push his shirt off. God, the man was fucking _gorgeous_, like a Renaissance painting or something, and she understood why women acted like total idiots around him. And _they_ had never seen him like this: shirtless, breathing heavy, and lips red and swollen from kissing.

His hands came up, a little tentatively, to rest on her hips, his fingers stroking under the hem of her silk blouse. “It’s okay,” she said, trying to keep any impatience out of her voice. She pulled up his hands from her hips and placed them on her breasts. “You can have this.”

Something like a growl came out of Fraser’s throat, and apparently all he needed was permission, or something, because his massively competent fingers were making quick work of the small buttons on her blouse, and she couldn’t help but think about what those fingers would feel like inside her. He pushed the blouse off of her, and he wasn’t being careful anymore. Stella wasn’t sure who this man was, but he didn’t seem anything like Ray’s Mountie partner, or even the guy in the bar.

His hands moved around her back to unfasten her bra, having no trouble at all, which was a bit surprising, and he brushed his fingers across her nipples as he took it off, making her gasp. He made an appreciative noise at that, before holding onto her and flipping her onto her back.

Wow. Okay. Maybe she wasn’t going to have to run this show, because it seemed like Fraser was getting on board in a big way. He leaned in to kiss her neck, and was whispering to her, “God, you’re so beautiful. I want – can I?”

“Yes, god, please,” she said, gasping up at the ceiling as Fraser moved down her body. She felt totally out of control in a way she hadn’t even known she’d needed, and Fraser was making her want to come just from his hands stroking down her sides, his lips on her skin. She was amped up and ready to go.

She felt Fraser’s breath on her hip, his fingers curling into the waistband of her panties. He kissed the skin he exposed as he pulled them down, and she felt like her whole body was on fire. She lifted her hips and her panties were tossed on the floor, then Fraser rolled each stocking down, slowly and carefully, and she was practically writhing around by the time he used his big, wide hands to spread her legs open.

She lifted her head, just a bit, to watch as Fraser stroked his slightly calloused fingers over her inner thighs, his lower lip caught between his teeth. It was almost as if he was studying her, trying to figure out exactly how to make her scream.

He looked up and caught her eye. God, he looked ready to devour her, which shouldn’t be so hot, but it _was_. “Hold yourself open for me,” he said, his voice shaking, but only a little bit. Stella nodded and moved her hands down to spread herself open, feeling the wetness on her fingertips.

She felt Fraser’s tongue come down on her clit, and it was almost more than she could bear to keep her hips down on the bed, to let him lick her without grinding her hips into his mouth. He had done this before, he was reading her body perfectly, and knew exactly which buttons to push to make her cry out and clench her thighs around his head.

The pace was slow, torturous, and Stella let go and put her hands in Fraser’s hair. She wrapped her legs around him and put her feet on his back, completely surrounding him and riding it out.

“God, Fraser,” and it felt like the words were almost being dragged out of her throat by his tongue on her clit, and he hummed against her in response, causing her to spasm again. She was almost convinced she wasn’t going to survive this, it was too good, too much.

Finally, she lost patience, and yanked his head up by his hair. “Make me come, Fraser.”

Fraser laughed, and she could see that his chin was wet with her. He looked positively edible. “Understood,” he said, dropping his head back down. Okay, that was better, there was some _purpose_ behind things now. He was licking up and down the length of her cunt, pushing inside her when he passed, then sucking on her clit. It wasn’t going to be long.

She had ceased to be surprised by Fraser when he flattened out his tongue and stroked her clit; hard, heavy strokes until she felt like she might burst open. Then, he unceremoniously pushed two of those big, talented fingers into her, and she was coming, moaning and digging her heels into Fraser’s back. She wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t leaving bruises, but she honestly couldn’t bring herself to care as she rode out the whole of her orgasm on Fraser’s tongue and fingers, rolling her hips.

When she finally came down, Fraser’s cheek was resting on her thigh, and he was stroking her belly. It was sort of ridiculously tender, and she tugged on his shoulders. “Come here,” she said quietly, and he did, climbing up her body, stopping along the way to lick at her hard nipples, which made her gasp. Her whole body was thrumming, and she still felt completely on edge.

“Stella,” he whispered, kissing her neck and her jaw and, god, she was getting even wetter, if that was humanly possible.

She reached between them and started tugging at the button on Fraser’s jeans, because she would be damned if she was going to lay there, naked and spread out, while he still had half his clothes on. She wanted to even the score, just a little. “Take these off,” she murmured impatiently.

Fraser’s hands were helping her now, and they managed together to work his pants open and off, and now Fraser was laying cradled between her thighs, his very hard cock on her hip.

“God, Fraser, fuck me,” she gasped out, before she could even stop herself from saying it. She almost wanted to take it back before Fraser raised his head to look at her, and said, “Yes, _god_, yes.”

And she was turning and fumbling in the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom, trying to open it faster than her fingers wanted to move. “Goddamn it,” she said under her breath, struggling with the foil packet until Fraser plucked it from her hands. “Let me,” he said, his voice low, and it sounded like his tongue on her clit. _Jesus_.

So she surrendered, letting Fraser use his Mountie concentration and focus to get the condom out. She heard him hiss slightly as he rolled the condom down his cock. She lifted her head to watch him, and he was rock hard and, god, pretty damn big. She wanted him inside her.

“Come on, Fraser, come on, please, I want it, come on –“ and her begging was cut off by the blunt head of Fraser’s cock pushing into her. He was braced on the bed with his hands next to her shoulders and he pushed into her steadily, not letting up, making her take him.

God, she could barely remember the last time anything had felt so good, and, if she was being honest, she hadn’t had sex in longer than she cared to remember. Fraser’s cock was hard and huge inside her, and he was starting to catch a rhythm, fucking her hard and slow, pulling out and pushing back in, and she sobbed out in relief every time he bottomed out inside her.

“Fraser,” she said, almost desperately, and Fraser sped up his thrusts, still measured, still fucking controlled, but god, she was going to come again like this, getting fucked through her mattress by a man who was in love with her ex-husband. A man she wasn’t even sure she _liked_ most days.

Fraser’s face was drawn in concentration, and Stella reached up to smooth the lines from his forehead. He was really amazingly gorgeous like this, and she watched his face as he fucked her.

It lasted what felt like hours, and she had been riding the edge of coming since they started, a slow, sweet haze. “Come on, please,” she said to him, desperate for release, for anything.

“Yes, god, you feel – good, so good,” Fraser whispered, and, staying balanced above her on one arm, moved his other hand between her legs, swiping against her clit with his thumb. _Fuck_. She reached around to dig her fingernails into his back and ride it out: Fraser fucking her cunt and her clit. She wanted to come, she _needed_ to come, and, with one last press of his thumb, she did, yelling and clenching down on Fraser’s cock inside her, making him groan. It was more intense than the last one; she couldn’t open her eyes and her whole body was shaking. Fraser was still fucking her, but with one last thrust, he came, dropping his head and moaning into her hair.

Fraser collapsed on top of her, and she figured she should be annoyed, but she felt too good and _way_ too fucked-out to be anything but content. He was heavy, but he felt good, grounding almost, and she wrapped her arms around him and held on.

At some point, and she had no idea how long because she’d totally lost track of time, Fraser rolled off and onto his back next to her. He quickly dealt with the condom, tossing it in the wastebasket next to the bed, then settled back down beside her.

They stayed there, just like that, for a little while, just breathing and not saying anything. It seemed like there should be some explanation for what just happened, or she should at least feel _sorry_, but there wasn’t, and she definitely didn’t.

Stella also pretended that it didn’t feel as good as it did when Fraser reached out and pulled her close to him. She just buried her face in his chest and held on, letting herself drift.

*****

Stella opened her eyes, and could barely make out the details of the room in the early morning light. She squinted, and saw Fraser sitting on the edge of the bed, deftly lacing up his boots. She couldn’t even remember when and if he’d taken them off the night before, and she felt herself flush at the idea of Fraser fucking her with them on.

“Hey,” she croaked, sitting up with the sheet gathered to her chest, her voice still more asleep than she was. “What’re you doing?”

Fraser turned to look at her, and gave her a small smile. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

So, that was how it was going to be? A quick fuck, sneaking out before it gets light out, thank you kindly? She didn’t want it to be like that. “No. I mean, you don’t have to go. I won’t get the wrong idea. You can stay. We could, uh – go for a repeat of last night?” She smiled at him, and bit down the urge to laugh when she saw him blush.

“Well, as much as I would like that, and I _would_, I have to be at the Consulate in an hour. And besides, Diefenbaker is probably furious to have been stuck there since dinnertime last night. He can be insufferable after he’s left alone.”

God, Fraser was a freak, but she smiled anyway. “Okay. Listen, I –“

Fraser stopped her with a hand on her face, soft and just resting there. “There’s no need, Stella. Me too.” She wondered exactly what they were agreeing to. Clearly, they weren’t going to mention this to anyone. Definitely not to Ray. And she was pretty sure this would be the only time they did this, which was smart, but really too bad, considering how good Fraser was in bed. He kissed her softly on the lips before pulling away.

Fraser stood up and tucked his shirt into his jeans. Stella just watched him, thinking about what was underneath that exterior, how Benton Fraser was absolutely nothing like she thought he was.

When he crossed the room to the doorway, Stella stopped him by saying, “You know, I still think you should tell Ray how you feel about him. I think he feels the same way.” And, god, Ray drove her crazy, but she still loved him, and they still had twenty-five years of history together, and she wanted him to be happy. He would want the same for her.

Fraser paused, but didn’t turn around. “Perhaps I will.” And then he was gone, out of the bedroom, and a few seconds later Stella heard the door click shut. She flopped back down, onto her back, and ran her hand over her belly, underneath the sheet. There was no way she was going to forget about this, not any time soon.

She just hoped Fraser had the brains to hail a cab.

*****

It was a few weeks later when Stella strode into the bullpen at the 2-7, to talk to Ray about his paperwork, _again_. When she reached the door, she looked in to see Fraser bent low over Ray’s desk, decked out in the red serge, Ray sitting in his chair and pointing at something on his desk.

Their faces were close, almost too close, and Ray turned to look up at Fraser. He smiled, one of those huge, Ray smiles that still made her a little weak in the knees if she wasn’t paying attention, except the smile was all for Fraser.

She smiled a little, to herself, before putting on her game face and walking over to Ray’s desk to chew him out.


End file.
